


Shrapnel

by gundamoocow



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episdoe VIII: The Last Jedi, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Abuse, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Eating Disorders, Enemies to Lovers, Force Choking, M/M, Medical Procedures, Medicinal Drug Use, Overdose, Past Abuse, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Vomiting, injuries, sad sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-31
Updated: 2018-08-12
Packaged: 2019-02-24 14:44:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13215993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gundamoocow/pseuds/gundamoocow
Summary: If Hux is to cement his position, endure Ren he must.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> In a wild break from my usual writing, here is a pile of sad post-TLJ angst. I just needed to get this out of my system. Many other writers are also on this bandwagon, so I apologise if there is any accidental overlap in content!
> 
> The rating for this fic is likely to go up with subsequent chapters, and new tags will be added as appropriate. Please check the tags when reading further updates!
> 
> Specific warnings are in the end notes.
> 
> Kylo treats Hux like shit in this, but it'll get better.

Hux keeps his distance as he follows Ren back to the shuttle. He focuses on holding his head high. The flametroopers flanking him witnessed neither the throw against the console nor Hux being choked, so there is no reason for them to believe anything is amiss. As long as Hux suppresses his developing limp, they will remain none the wiser.

Ren storms up the ramp into the shuttle, and Hux briefly considers staying behind to catch another transport back to the _Finalizer_.

He can't.

There are many reasons not to. For one, the utmost priorities are to oversee salvage of the _Supremacy_ , reallocate resources and personnel, and secure the fleet against further infiltration by the Resistance, particularly the scavenger girl. Hux needs to be back in space to do these things, and as much as he would rather be on the other side of the galaxy from Kylo Ren, Ren’s unfortunate self-proclaimed ascendancy to the position of Supreme Leader necessitates that Hux gets as close to him as possible. Giving in to the urge to simply lock himself away from Ren's sickening presence would only leave a space for some other snivelling and certainly less competent commander to take his place.

“Get us out of here!” Ren roars at the pilot.

Hux bites his tongue so hard to stop from flinching that his mouth fills with blood.

_No fear. No weakness. They mustn't think you're afraid of him._

He repeats the mantra in his head as Ren paces back and forth in the small cockpit. Miraculously, Ren doesn't destroy anything during their flight and leaves without a backward glance once they are docked on the _Finalizer_.

Hux sighs as soon as Ren is out of sight. Along with relief, fatigue hits him instantly, and he reaches into his pocket for another stim tablet. The blister pack is empty.

“Are you alright, sir?” Lieutenant Melford asks. The poor man seemed more frightened than Hux was when Ren threw him.

 _Kriff_. He hasn't been this shaken up since Brendol.

_No fear. No weakness._

“Never better,” Hux snaps. The thought of having every witness of Ren’s abuse executed aparates in his mind. He would be rid of everyone who saw his humiliation. On the other hand, better to let them all live convinced of his indifference to Ren's treatment. They already know how he stood up to Snoke. They will also know that he stood up to the unhinged Ren. Certainly, they will respect him more for it.

Hux leaves the shuttle without another word. The pain in his knee grows with each step. He should go to the med bay, but there are more pressing concerns, so he distracts himself with plans until he gets to the turbolift. Finally alone, he bends down to feel his knee. His side feels stiff, but that's not as much of a worry as the swelling he can clearly feel through his jodhpurs. He will go to the bridge, then to Ren, then to the med bay for some large bacta patches.

A flustered Captain Peavey is on the bridge when Hux arrives.

“Damage report,” Hux says.

“Superficial debris damage only, sir. She was clear of the main explosion.”

“Good. I assume you have heard the news.”

Peavey’s uneasy expression tells Hux everything he needs to know. “Yes, sir.”

“As far as I'm concerned, little has changed,” Hux says quietly, conscious of other officers trying to eavesdrop. “You will still report to me, as always. What is the status of the _Supremacy_?”

Somewhat more at ease, Peavey delivers the report. “The starboard fusion reactors have been destroyed, but the portside is intact. Evacuations from damaged sectors are in progress and we are taking as many people on board as we can, as are the other ships. Until repairs are undertaken, I'm afraid she is adrift in the void, sir.”

“I'll look into the engineers’ reports. Give our full support to the recovery effort. I must go confer with our new Supreme Leader.” Hux doesn't mean to say _Supreme Leader_ so disdainfully, but that's how it comes out.

Both Hux's chambers and Ren's are close enough to the bridge that Hux walks. It's getting more difficult not to limp. Perhaps he can stop hiding it here; the _Finalizer’s_ crew is none the wiser about what happened. For all they know, he was injured on the _Supremacy_. After five minutes of walking, he can no longer suppress the limp. By the time he reaches Ren's chambers, the pain is great enough that he craves something to dull it.

At Ren’s door, he takes a deep breath. He reasons that Ren hasn't killed him yet, despite having plenty of opportunities, therefore he considers Hux to still be useful. What penalty would Ren dole out for being disturbed? Being thrown around using the Force was disconcerting, but physically no worse than any beatings he endured from Brendol. If Hux is to cement his position, endure Ren he must.

_No fear. No weakness._

Hux presses the intercom, triggering a shooting pain from his wrist. The pain is a welcome distraction from the anxiety rising in his belly. There is no response, so Hux tries again. He is fairly certain that Ren is inside, given the sprinkling of red and white crystals in the corridor.

This cannot wait. Hux doesn't need Ren to decide on a strategy; salvaging the _Supremacy_ is an obvious course of action. However, Hux needs Ren to need him, so he keys in his override code and hopes that it still works.

The lock clicks and Ren's door slides open.

The smell hits him first. Burnt durasteel. Streaks of red embers, upturned furniture in pieces, and no sign of Ren. Hux steps over something that looks like it was once part of a chair and heads deeper into Ren's chamber. The door to Ren's bedroom is open. Inside, sitting on the floor surrounded by a dusting of downy feathers and the remnants of a bed is a partially clothed Ren. His tunic is torn down the center and along the shoulder seams, as if Ren had attempted to rip it off himself, then given up.

“What do you want?” Ren growls. He looks pathetic, with red-rimmed eyes and sweat-damp hair clinging to his face.

“Supreme Leader, we are in the process of salvaging the _Supremacy_. We must discuss--”

Hux feels his throat clamp shut as Ren stands. He must bear this. Hux tells himself this, but his hands helplessly and futilely grasp at his neck, tearing at his collar in hope of relief.

“This is your fault!” Ren charges as the ground disappears beneath Hux's feet.

He doesn't hear anything else Ren says over the pounding in his ears and pressure in his head.

When Ren drops him, Hux falls hard on his injured knee and wrist. Any cry of pain is lost in gasps for air. Hux hears Ren's lightsaber ignite, and he scrambles for his blaster. He won't be finished here, not without a fight. Hux rolls onto his back while his fingers find the blaster’s handle. He pulls it out, pointing it at the blurry red glow of the saber.

With a blink, the tears in Hux's eyes clear, and Ren solidifies in his field of vision. Above him, Ren stands bathed in red and unmoving with the saber pointing squarely at Hux. Hux redoubles his grip on the blaster.

A passing look of amusement crosses Ren’s face, and he turns off his lightsaber.

“I need to use a shower,” Ren says casually. “Mine is broken.”

Without letting go of the blaster, Hux glances through the door of Ren's refresher. He can't see anything other than the mirror, of which only several intact shards remain.

Hux furrows his brow. “Excuse me?” His voice comes out hoarse.

“A shower,” Kylo says slowly, spelling it out as if Hux is some kind of imbecile.

Is Ren planning to strip Hux's dignity by assigning him tasks far beneath his station? Hux would prefer death.

“We’re taking on thousands of evacuees from the _Supremacy_ ,” Hux says, putting great effort into keeping his voice steady. “There are no spare rooms.” Ren could shower in the troopers’ blocks, if he desired.

“I'll use yours.”

Ren's declaration takes a moment to register. By the time Hux processes it, Ren is gone.

The blaster Hux had been clinging to slips from his hands and falls to the floor. Clumsily, he grabs it and stuffs it back into its holster. He collapses onto his back, grunting in pain. In three seconds, he will get to his feet. He has to.

After counting to three, Hux clambers to his feet to chase after Ren. He limps towards his chambers, finding Ren poking at the lock. Hux shoves past him and keys in the passcode before Ren has a chance to demolish the entire mechanism. Ren invades Hux's space the moment the door opens and wastes no time in locating his refresher.

“Supreme Leader,” Hux asks, following in Ren's footsteps. “Do I have your permission to enact damage control as I see fit?”

“Do whatever you want,” Ren replies and closes the refresher door in Hux's face.

That’s it? Hux shakes his head and sighs.

He walks to his desk to grab his datapad, then sits on the couch. Within minutes of replying to urgent messages, Hux's eyelids grow unbearably heavy. Shortly after, he's asleep.

When he wakes, Ren is gone, and Hux can't breathe in deeply without pain in his ribs. The earlier soreness in his side is now focused to a sharp, stabbing point. He needs to go to med bay, but there is still so much to do. With a jolt, Hux checks the chrono. Five hours. He was uselessly asleep for five whole hours. Anxiety rockets through him. Precious time in both a transition in leadership and aftermath of a costly battle, lost because Hux succumbed to _sleep_ , of all things.

Hux stands, swearing loudly when his injured knee protests. He hobbles to the refresher and throws open his medicine cabinet, rifling through containers with trembling fingers until he finds the ones he needs. One dose of the stronger analgesic. No, two. He's used them enough to still be cognisant on a high dose. Another stim. Two anti-anxiety tabs, which he slips under his tongue to dissolve as soon as he swallows the others. He grabs spare blister packs of all three and shoves them into his pocket.

The tabs act quickly; within minutes, his heart rate slows and the clawing fear inside fades to a meager scratch. Hux limps to his desk and collapses into his chair. There is work to do.

Over the next few hours, Hux schedules and conducts emergency meetings that Ren doesn't attend and deploys personnel to tasks Ren probably doesn't know need to be done. Countless messages arrive to Hux from other fleet commanders, demanding to know what happened to Snoke. Vultures, all of them. Hux _must_ get through to Ren and get on his good side, or he's finished.

Buoyed by confidence that only his specialty cocktail can bring, Hux marches to Ren's chambers for the second time in the cycle. Snoke had Ren under his thumb easily enough. Dangling similarities to Vader may be enough to get at least a foot in the door, and Hux could work his way in from there. 

He rings the intercom, using his uninjured hand.

“ _What?_ ” Comes an angry reply through the speaker.

“Supreme Leader, I have urgent matters to discuss with you.” It's not really true; Hux can run the Order without Ren more efficiently than with him constantly looming.

There is silence, and then after a few seconds, the door opens with Ren on the other side. He's wearing a long black standard issue robe and slippers. His eyes are a little puffy and his hair is flattened on one side. _He's been sleeping. I've been piecing our fleet back together, and Ren has been sleeping._ A momentary rage rises in Hux until he can suppress it.

“May I come in?” Hux asks with all the politeness he can muster.

Ren gets out of the way and lets Hux through. The room is still a mess, but all the broken furniture is now in a single pile in the corner.

Hux clears his throat. “We must discuss matters of your ascendancy. Your rank currently supersedes that of Lord Vader’s, and according to my research, so do your abilities.” Both of these things are true; there are no records of Vader having anywhere near the mind-reading abilities of Ren, who presumably learned the technique from Snoke. Perhaps every Force user has their specialties, but from Hux's perspective, Ren's capabilities exceed those of Vader's. Hux continues: “In order for me to maximise my potential in serving you, it is imperative that--”

Ren flicks his wrist, and Hux's back slams into the wall. Either Ren hasn't used as much force as in the shuttle, or the analgesics he's been gobbling have dulled the impact. Abstractly, Hux understands that he should be afraid for his life, but he's high enough that he barely blinks when a furious Ren stalks towards him.

“Do you think I'm a moron?!” Ren yells right into Hux's face. Hux can smell his breath. “I know I looked like an idiot fighting Skywalker's fucking shadow!”

“He looked very realistic,” Hux offers, pleasantly surprised that Ren hasn't started choking him yet.

“I know your game,” Ren snaps. “You think you can come in here and feed me bantha shit about how much you respect my power? I know your mind. You hate me and you just want to maintain your position. You think the Order can't run without you.” Ren's voice softens. “You're all the same. A hundred goons can take your place. The only reason you're still alive is because I haven't extracted everything I need from you.”

Through the cushioning of the drugs, Hux feels a great unease building.

“Here, we can get it over with now.” Ren raises a hand, and Hux knows he's made a great miscalculation. A seething hatred bubbles to the surface immediately. All the times Ren carelessly ignored him, pushed his advice to the side, deliberately made his life difficult, and viewed his failures before Snoke rushed through his mind like a holofilm. “See?” Ren taunts. “I was right.”

Hux can't stop this. His mind is an open flask, pouring anything and everything out for Ren.

Ren digs up all of Hux's ambitions for leadership, his desire to be in Ren's position. He laughs, cruelly. “You think that wasn't obvious to me or Snoke? Let's see if you actually have anything useful in there or if you really are as weak and useless as you seem.”

Hux scrunches his eyes closed and tries to kick his feet against the wall. He isn't useless. _He isn't._ The visceral memory of Snoke unjustly body slamming him down on the bridge and dragging him in front of his crew plays back in vivid detail. He had seen others punished like that, but not him. He was careful, he had been so careful. After Brendol, he swore it would never happen again. Long-buried memories appear at the forefront of his mind: Brendol standing over him with a belt, Brendol’s hands around his tiny throat, the crisp sound of his forearm bone cracking, laughter, derision, a chorus of _weak weak weak_ , stealing make-up to cover black eyes--

“Stop it!” Ren shouts.

There is a crunching sound when Hux collapses in a heap on the ground. He's a child again, cowering on the floor while Brendol lays into him with whatever implement is within easy reach.

“Hux!”

A strong hand grabs him. Shakes him.

He passes out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Specific warnings: Kylo Force-chokes Hux with violent intentions and invades his mind without permission, bringing up memories of Hux's past abuse at the hands of Brendol. Hux receives injuries from Kylo as per the end of TLJ, which are exacerbated through Kylo's actions in the fic. Hux doesn't get enough rest and over-uses medicinal drugs to get by.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New tags: medical procedures, eating disorders
> 
> Specific warnings in end notes.

Hux wakes up to the sensation of his chest collapsing. He gasps for air, but each drag is met with sharp pain. He knows this feeling. It must be a broken rib, probably from when Ren threw him against that console.

“Lights, thirty percent,” he utters. His voice is gravelly, again thanks to Ren.

He tries to prop himself up. Sitting upright helped relieve pain in his ribcage in the past. As soon as he puts weight on his wrist, stabs of pain shoot up his arm and he yelps. He thanks the stars that no one is around to hear him.

Despite the poor, painful state of his body and feeling like a freighter plowed through his brain, he feels remarkably rested.

What the hell happened? The last thing he remembers is being in another altercation with Ren. Hux must have dragged himself to his chambers afterwards. He's still in his uniform, minus his boots. How did he manage to pull them off with his wrist the way it is?

_Kriff! What is the time?!_

His heart beats so hard that he feels nauseous. There is still so much to do. He can't waste his time sleeping. Relief washes over him when he glances at the chrono and sees that only a few hours have passed. This is technically his normal sleeping cycle. Since he isn't expected to be anywhere, he concedes that now is perhaps the best time to have his injuries treated. He shuffles down the bed, bearing the crushing discomfort from his ribs, and swings his legs over the edge. His knee screams as soon as he attempts to move it. It's swollen, he realises, perhaps to more than twice its normal size; he isn't going anywhere, so he fishes his comm out of his pocket and summons a medical droid, then drags himself back up the bed.

The droid arrives minutes later.

“Give me two hundred milligrams of the _050_ ,” Hux says as soon as the droid is in his bedroom.

Predictably, the droid replies in its mechanical voice, “Sir, that is over twice the recommended maximum dose.”

“Override code: Armitage Hux.”

“Yes, sir.”

Hux unclasps his shirt while the droid prepares the medication. He's going to need it off for his rib to be looked at, anyway. Unclasping is hard; the fingers on his injured hand are hard to move, but the promise of relief spurs him on until his top is off and he is in his undershirt. The droid presses the jet injector to Hux's arm, and after a brief nip of pain, Hux starts to relax. His heart rate slows and he feels his limbs gently sink into the bed. The tension in his head is the last to clear, as usual, but when it does, it clears completely.

He is calm. Ready to face things.

 _050_ , his precious elixir.

“I have injuries to my wrist, ribs, knee, and throat,” Hux says. “I need them evaluated and treated.”

“Yes, sir.”

The droid starts scanning him, reading out a list of injuries. Swelling on his throat. No broken ribs, surprisingly, but extensive soft tissue damage. Two bones in his hand are fractured. His knee is the most concerning; one of the tendons is completely torn. How that actually happened, Hux has no idea, but he'll need to visit the med bay to have it fixed. The droid also surprises him with a report of another injury: cracked teeth. That must have happened when Snoke slammed him down on the bridge.

Part way through the droid treating his wrist, a beeping sound alerts Hux to someone at his door. Now is a bad time. He means to tell whoever it is to leave, but the door opens.

It's Kylo Ren.

He doesn't look angry. In fact, he looks uncharacteristically calm and refreshed, so whatever happened between them last can't be bad enough that he's here to murder him. It's something else, then.

“Supreme leader,” Hux says, deliberately not acknowledging his partially unclothed state. “As you can see, I'm presently preoccupied. I take it that you are here with an urgent query?”

Ren licks his lips pensively as he looks Hux up and down. “You're injured,” Ren points out, as if Hux isn't aware of this stunning revelation.

Hux opens his mouth and draws in a breath, ready to snap at Ren's ignorance of his own actions, but he presses his lips together instead. Best not to escalate the situation.

Ren takes the hint. He turns his gaze down towards the floor before starting to mutter an update on the _Supremacy's_ salvage operation. He sounds lost, almost uncertain, and Hux thinks he's about to drop some horrific bombshell bad news. However, they are far ahead of where Hux expected them to be. Hux is about to ask about that, when Ren suddenly asks, “Are you going to be on the bridge today?”

“Of course,” Hux says, furrowing his brow.

Ren nods. “Okay. Good. It would be good for you to make an appearance.”

What in blazes is Ren playing at? Why in the galaxy would Hux not show up to his shift?

“They think you're dead,” Ren blurts out.

“I take a few hours off to sleep, and _they think I'm dead?!_ ” Hux exclaims, pushing the droid out of the way to sit up. Surely not. His immediate subordinates are well aware of his schedule.

Ren looks at him, opens his mouth to speak, then closes it. He looks _guilty_. “It's been two cycles,” he says quietly.

Hux's jaw drops. He looks at the chrono, first the large time display, then the date, written in small letters beneath the time. Of course they think he's dead. The last thing they would have seen was him and Ren quarreling, to put it lightly, and no sign of Hux after that.

“Right,” Hux acknowledges. “I'll be up and about as soon as I'm done with this,” Hux gestures at the medical droid.

Ren nods, clearly relieved.

“Will that be all, Supreme Leader?” Hux asks.

“Yes.” Ren pauses, looking like he has more to say, but then he turns and leaves.

 _Two cycles._ It's withdrawal from the stims, possibly, but he normally applies a timed patch to wake himself up when he has to step down his dose. This deepens the mystery of what state he was in when he got to bed, especially since Ren seems neither upset by his absence nor surprised.

While Hux waits as patiently as he can, the droid moves on to his knee, draining the swelling and injecting various concoctions into it. “The ligament will take time to heal after the surgery,” the droid informs him. “You will need to wear a brace and stay off it as much as possible.”

“Yes, yes,” Hux says. “I think I can manage on my own from here.” He'll book in a time to get the tendon reattached soon.

Hux sends the droid away to retrieve braces for his knee and wrist. Careful not to put much weight onto his knee, Hux hobbles to the refresher and peels the rest of his clothing off. In the mirror, he can see some bruising on his ribs and throat, but the pain is largely gone. He opts for a water shower, eager to scrub days of grime out of his hair and body, and frankly, because the hot water feels good.

When he leaves the shower, he finds the braces waiting for him, as well as a tray of food that he certainly did not order. He ignores the food and puts on the knee brace. It automatically adapts to his contours. He walks across the room to test it; it restricts his movement, but the support it provides is remarkable, and he will certainly be able to go about his day without too much trouble.

He does his best to maintain a steady stride while walking through the _Finalizer_. A good image is paramount.

Peavey, who looks worse for wear, is on the bridge when Hux finally makes it there.

“General Hux!” he exclaims. “It's good to see you, sir.”

“Yes, I was somewhat indisposed, but you can rest assured that I'm recovered,” Hux says. “The Supreme Leader tells me that the salvage operation is proceeding well.” Hux throws this in to make sure that everyone in earshot understands that he still has a direct line of communication with Ren.

They discuss the operation, then Hux retreats to his office to elevate his knee and respond to a seemingly endless stream of messages from the rest of high command. Ren has apparently made only minimal effort to communicate with them. Hux reiterates Ren's orders, which are to continue existing missions to consolidate control of the galaxy.

Ren interrupts him while he is deep in a message thread with the engineering department over whether to repair damaged fusion drives from the _Supremacy_ , or write them off and run the ship at partial capacity until replacement drives are ready, which will take some time.

“The troops respect you,” Ren says from the doorway after the door slides shut behind him. “The younger ones even like you.”

 _Yes_ , Hux thinks. That's the entire point of the propaganda campaigns.

“Snoke was wrong. You're not just a rabid cur.”

“Rabid cur?” Hux almost laughs. “Is that what he called me? You should hear what he called you.”

Ren lets out a short snicker, and Hux doesn't know whether to be amused or horrified at the sight of Ren's lips upturned into a crooked grin. “What?”

Hux's eyes widen. Does he tell Ren? Snoke is dead. There can be no retribution. He picks a middle-of-the-range insult. “An untame beast that snaps at the slightest provocation,” he offers. Unlike his own label of _rabid cur_ , _untame beast_ suits Ren perfectly.

They stare at each other, unmoving. “Untame beast,” Ren repeats, clearly internalising the term.

He doesn't look ready to snap now, so Hux ventures to add a jibe of his own when it suddenly occurs to him that shared commiseration over their deceased former ruler could be a way to gain Ren’s favour, provided that Ren doesn't find it treasonous. “You're not his beast anymore,” he says carefully.

“No,” Ren says, looking to his feet in contemplation. “I'm not.”

Ren turns and leaves without another word, and Hux wonders why Ren came to see him in the first place. Hux waits until he thinks Ren is sufficiently far away before he lets himself wonder if he could be the one to tame Ren. Snoke might have helped Ren hone his skills, but he did nothing to help settle his temper. Could it be possible that Snoke chose to do that by design?

 _”Prove to me that you can do the job better than Ren, and I might give you the title you so desire,”_ Snoke would say. Would Snoke have _ever_ made Hux Grand Marshal, or was it meaningless bait? With Snoke gone, it's a pointless line of inquiry. Ren is his target now, and Hux must strategise accordingly.

Hux leaves his shift two hours late and heads straight for his refresher. The nausea that has been building finally reaches its climax, and Hux finds himself dry-retching in the sink. He's covered in sweat and exhausted by the time the reaction stops, and barely has the energy to peel his damp uniform off. Shakily, he opens the medicine cabinet and grabs a timed stim patch, which he slaps onto his arm. Next, he carefully counts his sleeping pills. He _definitely_ didn't overdose on them before his long sleep. With a shrug, he pops one into his mouth and swallows it with a tiny sip of water, then crawls into bed without bothering with sleepwear.

He wakes to the sound of his comm beeping. A quick check of the chrono -- time _and_ date -- tells him that it's almost time to get up. The stim rouses him, wiping the grogginess from his mind, bringing up overpowering anxiety in its place. Hux grabs the comm, afraid of what he will see. Ren wants to meet. Hux slams the comm back down onto the bedside table. He can't keep the new Supreme Leader waiting, so he hauls himself out of bed to start his morning routine: meds, shower, shave, liquid nutrient pack. By the time his hair is gelled into place, his emotions are comfortably numb and he's ready to face the day.

The disaster Ren had unleashed on his chambers when they returned from Crait had now been fully cleaned up. Ren sits in a black armchair, looking as mellow as the day before. Hux approaches him as he would Snoke, though instead of looking up at Snoke’s towering form, Hux looks down at Ren. Does Ren consider this space to be a makeshift throne room?

“You summoned me, Supreme Leader?”

“There were things you wanted to discuss the other day. Before I--” Ren cuts himself off.

Before what? Hux looks around the room, desperate for clues. They were in here, those few cycles ago. The room was a mess, with all the broken furniture swept to one side. Ren had thrown him around again, and then--

“You don't remember,” Ren says, eyes widening. “Just--” Ren takes a deep breath. “You wanted to talk about my ascendancy. I'm listening.”

Hux blinks. This isn't the same Kylo Ren he saw on Crait, hollering orders to destroy the latest thing to capture his ire. Surely not.

“Right,” Hux says, composing himself. He starts rattling off all the things that Ren must do that probably didn't even cross his mind. Addressing an assembly of high command, a proper ceremony, sort through Snoke's personal contacts, tailoring his image to the First Order's territories, and all the minutiae of tasks that Hux spent many a happy hour fantasising doing for himself, until very recently.

“I don't like Snoke's gaudy image,” Ren says.

“Very well,” Hux nods, pulling out his datapad to take notes. “I'll have my propaganda team work on it. They're very good, and they'll tweak things as necessary to appeal to our new subjects.”

“Why?” Ren questions. “Isn't it enough that they know our power?”

“Conquering systems and _keeping_ them require different approaches.”

Ren is quiet for a few moments, then asks, “Why are you helping me?”

“Is it not obvious?” Ren's eyes light up and Hux regrets his reply as soon as the words leave his mouth. Hux wants to advance his own position, always. _Always._ Especially when the alternative is to be shut out completely, or dead.

“But you hate me,” Ren says, turning sullen. “I've seen your thoughts. You hate me with every fiber of your being. You wish our roles were reversed.”

Hux's mouth runs dry. Ren has him. This is a trap, and this time, he won't get away.

“I asked around about you,” Ren continues. Hux wonders if _ask_ is a euphemism. “You have your slimy fingers in every pie in the First Order. You'd kill me and take my place, if you could,” Ren adds smugly.

He needs something, _anything_ to save his skin. Something that isn't a lie, since Ren is so adept at detecting those. “I looked forward to working with you, when Snoke first informed me that you would be joining us.”

Ren lifts an eyebrow at him, like this is some kind of a game.

Hux continues, game or not. “Vader and Tarkin got along famously. I had hoped for the same sort of relationship, but--”

“Then why did you tell Snoke you didn't respect me? Before you even knew me?”

“I never said that!” Hux retorts, and it's true.

“Liar.”

“I swear it! Read my thoughts and you'll see,” he pleads.

“No,” Ren says sharply. Then, quietly, “You have bad memories.”

So he's already been there. Hux starts to feel weak in the knees, lightheaded. Ren hadn't simply inferred; he'd rooted around Hux's head. Hux knows precisely the memories Ren means.

Hux grits his teeth. “You want to know why I hate you, _Supreme Leader Ren_?! Because every time I try to work with you, you throw it right back in my face. I can think of several incidents in the _very recent past_ that had catastrophic consequences that could have been avoided, had you listened to me. Every morning, I wake up wondering what piece of equipment you've taken your lightsaber to or which of my crew members you've assaulted. _That_ is a personal insult, by the way; everyone on my bridge has been hand-picked by _me_ , so I don't appreciate it when they don't show up to their shift _because they've been strangled_.”

It feels good to let it all out. Exhilarating, almost as much as his speech on Starkiller. Let Ren kill him and then regret it when the Order crumbles around him because he can't fucking help shitting where he eats. Hux stands up straight, hands behind his back in parade rest.

“Are you always going to be this honest with me?” Ren asks.

“Excuse me?” Hux expects Ren to smite him on the spot, not a conversation.

“Snoke lied to me and manipulated me,” Ren says. “If I make you Grand Marshal, I expect honesty.”

“I hate you,” Hux spits at Ren.

Ren grins. “I know. Do you accept?”

“Of course I accept!”

Like in Hux's office, they stare at each other, Hux studying Ren and vice-versa. It feels like an uneasy truce.

Hux is the one to break the silence. “There's something very important that we must see to, and quickly. Snoke’s allies are not necessarily our allies. We must eliminate the ones who are likely to turn against us. Do you have anyone you trust in the order?”

“The Knights,” Ren says.

“They are like you? With the mind reading and all?” Hux gesticulates in front of his face.

“My abilities surpass theirs, but they are proficient in the ways of the Force.”

Speaking of the Force. “What of the scavenger girl? If she--”

Ren stands suddenly, and Hux flinches, recoiling so far that his back hits the wall. His heart pounds in his chest and the room starts to close in on him.

“Hux, stop,” Ren says. “My hands are down. I won't--”

Before Ren can say anything else, Hux scrambles to get out of the room. He'd run if his knee would let him, but he can't, so he walks back to his chambers as fast as he can. When the door is safely closed behind him, he lets himself drop to the floor. _Deep breaths. Deep breaths and it will pass._

Eventually, it does, and Hux gets to his feet and goes to the refresher to splash some water on his face. He needs to actually get to the bridge today. Thankfully, when he gets there, Ren is nowhere to be seen.

Over the next few cycles, they continue the salvage operation. The Resistance hasn't returned with any allies, so they must truly be on their last legs. Hux will rest easier once the _Supremacy_ is hyperspace-worthy, but that is weeks away, according to present estimates. They decided to strip what they could from the piece that detached, and patch up the rest. To Hux's great relief, Phasma was found amongst the survivors, badly burnt and unconscious, but alive. She will be a good ally to have, _and_ she gets along with Ren.

Ren, meanwhile, mostly stays holed up in his chambers, which would be fine by Hux if he didn't comm him constantly. The comms are for anything and everything -- strategy, who so-and-so is in high command, updates on the _Supremacy_ , can they make a throne room on the _Finalizer_ , would Hux join him for a meeting over a meal. Does Ren have no one else to talk to? Hux stops dead in his tracks as he walks to Ren's chambers for the meal he begrudgingly agreed to attend after refusing Ren's other invitations with paltry excuses. Of course Ren doesn't have anyone else.

“Supreme Leader,” Hux says, nodding to Ren when he enters his chambers.

“Grand Marshal,” Ren says in return. He's sitting at a table, a new addition to the room, sourced from who knows where. There are two covered plates on the table.

“I should warn you, I'm not much of an eater,” Hux says when Ren uncovers the plates.

It's some kind of mixed meat and vegetable dish. Hux pokes at the food. He takes a small forkful, and only takes a portion of it into his mouth.

“How do you survive if you don't eat?” Ren asks, scooping a large mouthful of food onto his fork.

“I prefer liquid nutrient packs.”

Ren makes a disgusted face. “You aren't supposed to live on those.”

Hux shrugs. “I'm still here, aren't I?”

When Hux takes only a few more small bites, then puts his cutlery down, Ren frowns. “I had that specially made. It's my favourite.”

“You're welcome to have the rest mine,” Hux says.

The offer doesn't seem to appease Ren. He fixes his eyes on his own plate, sulking as he stuffs forkful after forkful into his mouth. He has to throw Ren a bone. If he can't show appreciation for Ren's favourite dish, he has to do something else.

“It's nothing personal, Ren,” he says. “I was a frail child. My father force-fed me in a vain effort to bulk me up. Food was ruined for me, I'm afraid.”

Ren pauses chewing to hear Hux speak. “Your father was dead before I arrived. How did he die?”

“Dissolved in a bacta tank.”

“Did you kill him?”

Hux shakes his head. “Phasma did it before I could. He tormented me for most of my life. I was glad to see him go. Now if you'll excuse me, I'd rather not discuss him anymore. That part of my life is dead and buried.”

“It's a shame you're not Force-fed sensitive,” Ren mutters under his breath.

Wouldn't that be something.

“Hux,” Ren says suddenly, and very seriously. “Can I try something with you?”

“What?” Hux asks, immediately suspicious.

“Take your glove off.”

Hux is about to refuse, purely on principle, but Ren looks so lost and vulnerable that Hux decides to give in. If this act will elevate him in Ren's eyes, then he'll do it. It's certainly a far preferable activity to getting tossed around like a rag doll.

He pulls his right glove off. Ren does the same.

“Now hold out your hand.”

Hux rests his elbow on an empty part of the table and holds his hand out to Ren. He watches carefully as Ren slowly brings his hand to Hux's until the pads of their fingers are hovering just millimeters apart. Hux expects some trick with the Force, but Ren simply touches him, gasping ever so slightly as their hands make contact. While Hux remains still, Ren brushes his fingers from Hux's fingertips to his palms and back.

“Ren,” Hux asks cautiously, “what is this?”

“Nothing,” Ren says, yanking his hand back.

It's strange and uncomfortable, and Hux must take some time to consider it. “I should go,” Hux says.

“Yeah.”

“Thank you for dinner,” Hux says as he stands up and leaves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Specific warnings: non-graphic descriptions of injuries and minor medical procedures, Hux's eating disorder is described.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea if I pulled this off.
> 
> Sorry about the wait.
> 
> Specific warnings in the end notes. Please note that the rating has changed to E.

The fact that Ren now shows interest in strategic planning instead of issuing orders on a whim is a positive change. The negative side is that he prefers to confer with Hux alone. Snoke was equally selective. However, Snoke held audience in his throne room, not in his private chambers over meals and drinks. No amount of polite suggestion has swayed Ren to moving these meetings to a more appropriate time and venue.

Tonight's meeting is on one of Hux's favourite topics: eliminating his opponents in high command. Ren is on a crusade to cut off useless hangers-on from the past, which is fine by Hux.

“Danton, Ki’iv, and Perrens can go,” Hux says, adding to the list of people who Ren’s Knights deemed likely to betray them.

“Why Perrens?” Ren asks. “He's loyal to the Order and will follow whoever is in charge.”

Hux could give reasons. Past slights and signs of concern. There are none of substance. Perrens was good friends with Brendol, witnessed Hux’s various humiliations at Brendol’s hands, and did absolutely nothing. A dirty, loose end.

“Personal reasons.” Let’s see what Ren has to say about that.

Ren studies Hux for a good minute and chews on his lip before shrugging. “Fine.”

Hux suppresses a grin of victory. He can celebrate when he’s alone in his chambers. “Will that be all, Supreme Leader?” As far as Hux reckons, there is nothing left to discuss.

Ren looks at him intensely, again chewing his lip. He opens his mouth to speak, then closes it, then blurts out, “How are your injuries?”

“They’ve been treated,” Hux replies, deliberately keeping his tone steady and professional. There is absolutely no need for Ren to know that his knee recovery is taking longer than usual because Hux refuses to stay off of it. When the situation has stabilised, he’ll book some shore leave and rest in his room. With matters as critical as they are now, he simply can’t afford to take the time off, and the brace is working well enough.

Ren furrows his brow and nods. “You should accompany me for dinner,” he says, looking away from Hux.

This is exactly what Hux feared Ren would suggest, so he specifically scheduled another meeting following this one. “I’m afraid I can’t,” Hux says as he carefully gets to his feet. “I have an appoint--”

“Skip it,” Ren demands, standing up suddenly.

Ren takes two steps towards Hux, and all Hux can do is helplessly back away until his back hits the nearest wall. He tries not to flinch, tries to maintain eye contact, tries not to crumble, but Ren’s breath is hot in his ear, his body is almost against Hux’s, and Hux can’t do anything except scrunch his eyes shut and clench his fists and wait for this to be over.

“I thought--” Ren growls into Hux’s ear. “I thought we had a _connection_.”

The choking that Hux expects never comes, but Ren is still there, standing too close and blocking his way out. Hux is trapped, cornered, and then suddenly Ren takes a step away, and Hux is free.

“Just go,” Ren says, sulking.

Hux glances up at him. Ren looks almost as miserable as when Hux had him dragged off of Starkiller in a bloody heap. Now is not the time to figure out why. Hux takes his cue and scrambles to leave Ren’s chambers as fast as he can. He’s halfway back to his quarters when it hits him.

The strange hand touching. The persistent invitations for meals. The increasing number of private meetings.

 _It can’t be._ Not long ago, Ren was ready to kill him. Hux’s body still bears the aftereffects.

Hux stops in the middle of the corridor. He closes his eyes and takes deep breaths as the weight of this new injustice sinks in. _Why him?_ Why not any number of other First Order personnel whom Ren hasn’t yet managed to traumatise?

“Sir? Are you all right?”

“I’m _fine_ ,” Hux snaps at the frightened lieutenant and storms past her.

After two blessedly Ren-free cycles, Hux has calmed down enough to rationally evaluate the situation.

It’s an opportunity.

There are no two ways about it; if Hux does not take this role, someone else will, and it is they who will have the Supreme Leader’s ear. The last thing Hux needs is such a rival. He’ll be discarded the very moment Ren finds someone who will give him the kind of attention he craves. No, this is a position that only Hux must assume.

With that decided, Hux needs to formulate a plan. He lies in bed and stares at the ceiling. Ren has already shown an interest, so presumably all Hux needs to do is reciprocate. It could be as simple as accepting one of Ren’s invitations. In fact, he’s overdue for such an invitation now. He glances at his comm to see if there are any messages from Ren that he might have missed, however unlikely that is, but since their last meeting, there has been only radio silence.

Hux frowns. They last separated on poor terms. Ren probably interpreted Hux’s reaction as a rejection, which it most certainly was, and is now sulking as a result of this new emotional wound. Hux will have to be proactive. Before he loses his nerve, he types out a message to Ren, then swallows a sleeping pill to knock himself out.

In the morning, there is a single message from Ren. Hux completes his morning routine before he reads it. No point in putting himself through additional undue stress.

“Yes, you can come over for a drink. Come after your shift today.”

That’s sooner than Hux would like. He spends the day trying not to think about his upcoming meeting with Ren, which turns out to be easy because no less than five separate projects need his personal attention. Now, with his shift over, only Ren needs his attention.

Hux studies himself in his refresher mirror. His hair is still in pristine condition, and his eyes are not as sunken as they were two weeks ago. He cleans his teeth and rinses his mouth, careful not to splash anything on his uniform, then opens the mirror cabinet. This evening’s liaison should be for talking only. The likelihood of having to touch Ren or -- stars forbid -- get _intimate_ with him is low, but just in case, he takes an extra tab of the anti-anxiety medication on top of an industrial strength dose of analgesic that’s presently keeping his knee pain at bay.

Not wanting to arrive at Ren’s empty-handed after inviting himself, Hux rummages through a cupboard in his kitchenette until he pulls out a bottle of what he has come to call “mystery brew”. He found several bottles in a deceased officer’s liquor cabinet some time ago. The label is not in Basic and Hux has no idea what it is, but he drank an entire bottle of the stuff once and it didn’t kill him, so it’s probably fit for human consumption.

He takes a couple of swigs straight from the bottle, then strolls to Ren’s quarters. By the time he rings Ren’s intercom, he’s slightly light-headed and feels like he’s wrapped in cotton wool, which suits him just fine.

“Come in,” Ren says. He eyes Hux tentatively, then steps to the side to let him through the door.

“I brought this,” Hux says, holding up the bottle.

“What is it?”

“Alcohol,” Hux states almost cheerfully. “Of some description. I haven’t the faintest idea.” Maybe he _is_ actually cheerful. His heart rate is low and he’s not in pain, and even his mind feels at ease, despite the circumstances.

Ren retrieves a pair of standard First Order mugs and places them on the low table, then sits in his customary chair.

Hux flops down on Ren’s sofa and immediately pours the liquor, filling each mug about two-thirds full. He picks one mug up and waits for Ren to get the hint and pick up his. “To the First Order,” Hux says. He clinks his mug against Ren’s, then downs half of it in one go.

Ren stares at his mug and doesn't even lift it to his lips.

“Oh, go on,” Hux says. “It's not poisoned.” He gulps the rest of his, then fills his mug again.

Cautiously, Ren picks up the mug and sniffs its contents. He takes the smallest of sips, then pauses for analysis. Hux can't figure out if Ren isn't used to alcohol or if he's accustomed to something more refined. The mystery brew could be high class stuff on the planet its from, for all Hux knows. A moment later, Ren imbibes a slightly more substantial amount, then puts his mug down.

“I apologise if it's not to your tastes. I inherited my father's substantial collection of rare and expensive spirits, but I had all of his belongings incinerated after his death, you see.” Since Ren knows already, there's no harm in talking about it.

The corner of Ren's mouth curls up slightly, almost as if he's going to smile.

“Does patricide amuse you?” Hux asks.

Ren's face suddenly falls. “No.”

The conversation dies there. To fill the void, Hux takes another sip of the mystery brew. His tongue is numb, and so are his lips. How curious.

“There are those who don't appreciate the need to cut away the past in order to embrace the future,” Ren says, breaking the silence.

“There always are,” Hux says, raising an eyebrow at Ren. “That's why we need to clean up every once in a--”

He stops, suddenly overcome by vertigo.

“Hux, are you okay?”

 _I'm fine_ , Hux wants to say, but his mouth won't form the words and closing his eyes feels like a much better option.

When Hux opens his eyes again, he sees a frowning Kylo Ren in his field of vision. Next to him is a medical droid. He’s in Ren's chambers, which is where he remembers being, but he has no idea how he went from conversing with Ren to lying on his sofa.

“What happened?” he asks, groggy. His head is spinning.

Ren crosses his arms, but doesn’t reply.

Hux attempts to sit up. The moment he moves, he's overcome with nausea. He needs to rush to the refresher, but it’s too late. He can already feel his stomach involuntarily heaving. A metal bucket materialises in his lap and he hugs it in his arms, immediately retching into it. Mystery brew comes out first, then some time later, bile. He’s shaking and exhausted when it’s over.

“You have an unhealthy coping mechanism,” Ren says.

“It’s less destructive than yours,” Hux scoffs weakly, speaking at the bucket.

Ren snorts. It sounds almost like a laugh.

“I suppose I should go,” Hux says. “We can reschedule a social meeting with less of--” he gestures weakly at himself and the bucket “--this.”

“The droid said you need to be monitored for the next few hours.”

“Then I’ll take it with me.” Hux puts the bucket down and tries to stand. Dizziness hits him immediately, and he collapses back down on the sofa.

“When was the last time you ate anything?” Ren asks.

Out of everything that has transpired this evening, Supreme Leader Ren behaving like a nanny droid is the most demeaning. Hux can look after himself. He always has. That much alcohol on top of everything else was simply a miscalculation. “That’s not your concern.”

Ren sighs and shakes his head, then disappears from the room and returns with an isotonic rehydration drink. He places it on the low table next to the bottle of mystery brew and the mugs. “At least drink this,” Ren says.

The drink is what they serve Stormtroopers during training and deployment. Since he apparently has no choice, Hux pulls open the mouthpiece and takes a sip. Ren, thankfully, sends away the medical droid and sits in his armchair. It’s like they are picking up from where they left off, except Hux is now several orders of magnitude more pathetic and Ren probably feels smug about it.

As uncomfortable as Ren staring him down while he slowly sips on the drink is, Hux gradually begins to feel better. Ren lets Hux leave when he demonstrates that he can walk across the room without falling over and swears that he won’t suffocate on his own vomit in his sleep.

The next morning, Hux feels like he’s been hit with the worst hangover of his life. His entire skull throbs. He’s nauseous. His muscles ache. His knee feels stiff again. Memories from the previous evening storm into his consciousness. What a fool he made of himself. If Ren still shows any interest in him after seeing him almost be sick all over himself, Hux will be surprised.

There is nothing he can do other than move on. He glances at his comm. A message from Ren awaits. Hux feels so physically awful that his anxiety level is miniscule by comparison, so he opens the message. “ _I cancelled your shift today and all of your meetings,_ ” it reads.

Normally, Hux would be angry at the interference, but this morning, he’s relieved. He rolls out of bed and crawls into the shower. He sits in it, right on the floor, while the hot water blasts him. How long he sits there, he doesn’t know, and nor does he care. When he gets out, he drinks a nutrient drink, then opens his refresher cabinet and takes his medication. Just one anti-anxiety tab this time, and a minimal dose of the analgesic, and then he heads back to bed.

Just as he drifts off, another message from Ren arrives. “ _You can come over again tonight. No alcohol this time_.”

Unbelievable. Ren must be pathetic and lonely indeed if he still thinks Hux's company is appealing.

Hux vows to make a better impression than he did by passing out then nearly vomiting all over himself the evening before. When he starts feeling better, he sits up in bed and scoots out. Everything still hurts, but it’s tolerable rather than overwhelming. His head, at least, feels clear.

He decides to make himself as presentable as possible, so he shaves and gels his hair back and puts on his uniform, even though he won’t be on duty. Briefly, he considers going to Ren’s bare-handed, but his palms are a mess, so he slathers bacta on them and puts on his gloves. Normally, he’d be close to finishing his shift at this hour, so he figures it’s a good a time as any to see Ren and get the ordeal over with.

Favouring his bad knee, Hux makes his way to Ren’s chambers. Ren, it seems, has been expecting him. He has a plate of food out for himself and a nutrient drink for Hux, both out on the low table by the sofa.

“Have a seat,” Ren says, and Hux does.

Ren follows, but instead of sitting in his armchair, he sits on the sofa next to Hux. Hux freezes. There’s a gap between them, a good two hand lengths, but it feels alarmingly close. The signal is unambiguous, but Hux isn't ready.

“Don't be afraid.”

Hux says nothing. He picks up the nutrient drink, tears open the mouthpiece and takes a long drag.

“I saw a vision of us,” says Ren.

Hux nearly spits his drink. A _vision?_ Snoke spoke of foresight, mostly to Ren, but Hux picked up enough to put together a picture of its capabilities. Some of this so-called foresight had born fruit in the past. However, from Hux's perspective, this mystical power is intermittent and unreliable. After all, Snoke failed to predict and avoid his own assassination. On the other hand, Snoke had been right to fear the Jedi. Perhaps there is weight in Ren's vision.

“Oh?” Hux prods.

“Our destinies are intertwined,” Ren says. “You and I hold great power together. Snoke saw that, but he kept it from me.” Ren huffs at this. “Before, I only saw conflict. But now, now--”

Ren turns to Hux and looks at him with an intensity Hux has never seen. Whether Hux is ready or not, this is his chance. If the Force magically told Ren that Hux is destined to rule with him, Hux will take full advantage of it. Whatever it takes, he'll make it happen. He steels himself and reaches out with his hand, not breaking eye contact with Ren. When his gloved fingertips brush against Ren's leg, he skims his hand across until it rests on Ren’s thigh.

“What about now?” Hux asks, deliberately softening his voice. His heart is pounding, but he tries not to show it. This would be easier with alcohol, but Hux can’t afford to take the risk.

Ren gasps. His eyes dart down to Hux's hand on his thigh, then back to Hux’s face. He looks almost distraught. It's been almost ten years, but Hux hasn't forgotten how to seduce someone. He ghosts his fingers a short distance up Ren's thigh, then squeezes gently. Ren’s thighs are thick and strong.

“Hmm?” Hux nudges, aiming to sound sultry.

Ren's hands suddenly move towards Hux, and a sick feeling instantly overwhelms him. He recoils, plastering his back against the sofa.

“I wasn’t going to hurt you,” Ren says, pulling his hands away. “I just-- Oh.” He shakes his head. “You don’t even want me.”

No, it can’t go this way! Hux will _not_ let this opportunity slip. Ren won’t kill him or permanently maim him. He had plenty of opportunity to do so, and yet he didn’t. Following their last altercation weeks ago, Ren has been especially well-behaved. Hux _must_ stop flinching like a frightened animal.

“Why don’t you sit back,” Hux forces himself to say, “and let me do all the work.”

“Hux--”

“This is destiny, right?” Hux says, raising an eyebrow.

Ren seems to accept this. His shoulders relax and he leans back into the sofa.

“Just leave your hands there, by your sides,” Hux instructs. Ren does one better, and tucks them under his thighs.

Now that Ren is in a minimally threatening position, Hux must act. He focuses on the strategy. This is a mission like any other. Hux’s body is his arsenal, nothing more. The goal is for Hux to cement his position as the Supreme Leader’s right-hand man. He must be indispensable to Ren. He must be more than his rank.

Hux turns to face Ren. He leans towards him and reaches a hand out to his cheek, the side without the scar, and tilts Ren’s head to face him. Hux looks Ren in the eye, suppresses the revulsion in his guts, and leans in a little further. He closes his eyes just before his lips touch Ren’s. They are soft and the feeling is not unpleasant. Hux doesn’t know why he thought they would be disgusting.

When Hux pulls back to evaluate the outcome, he finds Ren staring at him like a starved puppy.

Well, then. It’s going well.

Hux lets his fingers slide down Ren’s face, down the center of his chest over that thick vest of his, and down to his thigh. With gloves on, Hux can at least have some reassurance that he isn’t _really_ touching Ren. That reassurance allows him to slide his hand up underneath the vest and Ren’s tunic until it comes to rest over Ren’s groin. _Not really touching._

He considers what to do next. A handjob would be underwhelming. He’s completely out of practice for fellatio. There’s only one thing for it.

“Would you like to take this to the bedroom, Supreme Leader?” He means to sound sultry, but it comes out flat.

Ren doesn’t seem to notice. He replies immediately with, “Yes,” and starts to sit up.

Hux pulls his hand out from underneath Ren’s tunic. He stands, feeling a twinge in his knee, but it’s minor. Bearable.

Ren gets up and Hux follows him to his bedroom. It’s sparse, more so than Hux’s, but then Ren probably destroyed all of his old furniture. The only furniture in the room is a large, unmade bed. Hux imagines Ren spending his time in here, lying in that bed, and the reality of what is about to happen suddenly sinks in. This entire endeavour is a mistake. He should have dragged things on, built up to this slowly. Then again, Hux is ahead of the competition. He will have beaten the competition, if he can follow through.

The sound of Ren unzipping his vest snaps Hux out of his procrastination. He’s not ready for this. He’s not ready for Ren casually tossing the vest to the floor. He’s not ready to see Ren unzip his tunic and take it off, so he averts his eyes.

“Are you going to take your clothes off?” Ren asks.

Hux nods quickly, and starts to undo his belt. It’s like getting undressed before going into the communal showers at the academy. Nudity isn’t anything special, Hux tells himself as he removes his gloves, then his top and the sleeveless undershirt below. He pulls off his boots, then makes quick work of his jodhpurs, and undoes his knee brace, leaving everything on the floor. When he is down to his standard issue briefs, he glances over his shoulder at Ren.

Ren is completely nude. What’s more, he’s _solid_. His torso is muscular and his arms are well-defined. His shoulders -- kriff, his _shoulders_. Hux swallows when his eyes get to Ren’s dick. It’s big, protruding well away from a dark thatch of pubic hair, even though it’s not fully hard. If Hux could forget for a moment that this is Kylo Ren -- and if he was the type of person to have sex for fun -- he could possibly enjoy this. Perhaps he can pretend this is some juvenile sexual fantasy featuring a faceless, good-looking body.

With a sigh, Hux hooks his thumbs around the elastic of his briefs and swiftly pushes them down. He steps out of the leg holes and leaves the underwear on the floor, conscious of Ren appraising him. Hux knows he’s thin and not particularly strong, but some men prefer that in a sexual partner. He hopes Ren is in that category.

“Your bones,” Ren says, looking him up and down.

“My _bones?_ ” Hux repeats, wondering what in the galaxy Ren is trying to point out.

“They’re jutting out. You need to--,” Ren stops, then sighs. “Nevermind.”

Hux lets the comment slide and changes the subject to something practical. “Do you have lubricant?”

Ren swallows. “In the ‘fresher.”

Hux nods and walks into the refresher and closes the door behind him. He opens the mirror cabinet, figuring the lubricant is in there, and is surprised to see a few bottles of hair products and face creams, some bacta in a tube, and the lubricant, but no shelves crammed full of pills, dissolvable tabs, patches, and the odd syringe. There isn’t time to dwell, so he grabs the lubricant and closes the cabinet.

The easier he can make this for himself, the better, so Hux squirts some lubricant over his fingers and unceremoniously reaches between his cheeks and wiggles one into his arsehole. The stretch is worse than he remembers, but he’s short on time, so he quickly adds a second finger, and a third.

A knock on the door interrupts him. “Hux?”

“I’m getting ready,” Hux shouts through the door. “Just-- just lie on the bed. I’ll be right there.”

What the _fuck_ is he doing? With his fingers in his arse, Hux looks at himself in mirror. There's no turning back from this now. He's going to have sex with Ren.

He withdraws his fingers and washes the lubricant off his hands in the sink, scrubbing every crevice until he realises that he’s procrastinating again. He turns off the tap and dries his hands on a small towel hanging next to the sink.

It's time. Hux takes a deep breath and opens the door.

Ren is lying on his back, propped up by a few pillows. He's soft and his arms are crossed and he looks at Hux with uncertainty.

Hux should do something alluring, like swing his hips or smile, but his steam from earlier is all gone. All he can do is mechanically walk over to Ren and sit on the bed next to him. Just as Hux places the bottle of lubricant on the bed, Ren sits up and starts to reach for Hux.

“Stop,” Hux says, immediately scrunching his eyes shut. “Just--” Hux takes a breath, then opens his eyes again. Ren looks hurt again. Hux absolutely does not pity Ren's hurt feelings after everything he’s put Hux through, but focusing on that won't get them anywhere. “Just lie down. Keep your hands by your sides.” _Don't touch me._

Ren obeys.

Hux takes another deep breath, as one would before diving under water, and unceremoniously crawls between Ren's legs. He places a hand on each of Ren's muscular thighs and slides them upwards, watching Ren's reaction. Ren needs to be hard, so Hux continues to rub, getting his hands closer and closer to Ren's dick. The action has its desired effect; Ren cock slowly fills out. Hux slides his hands further until his fingers curl around Ren's now stiff cock. He strokes it lightly, and Ren starts to pant straight away.

Ren must be starving for sex if this little is affecting him. It occurs to Hux that the more foreplay he gives Ren, the less actual sex he'll need to have with him, so he bends down and licks the head of Ren's cock. Thankfully, Ren smells clean, so Hux takes in more, sucking on the head gently. Getting any more than half of Ren’s cock down his throat is going to be impossible, so Hux doesn’t even try. Better to let Ren think he’s holding something back.

It doesn’t take long for Hux’s jaw to get sore, so he tactically retreats and sits up on his knees. Ren’s jaw is slack and his pupils are blown and his chest rises and falls heavily. He almost looks like a teenager about to get his first ever fuck. Maybe this _is_ Ren’s first fuck, and he’ll come as soon as he’s in. Fine by Hux.

“Put your legs together,” Hux says.

As Ren closes his legs and straightens them out, Hux straddles him and scoots up until he’s on top of Ren’s lower abdomen, with Ren’s cock hot against his arse cheek. He grabs the bottle of lubricant and squirts a generous quantity into his palm. He reaches behind himself and spreads it on Ren’s cock, getting it as wet as he can. It would be a miracle for Hux to get that cock up his arse without tearing himself open, so he needs all the help he can get.

He grabs the base of Ren’s cock and lines it up with his hole. He should probably look at Ren while he’s doing this, make him feel like his imagined connection is real, but he can’t. Hux focuses on Ren’s chest instead, trying to imagine that this is _not_ Ren, only he has no one in mind to take his place. Maybe some other version of Ren from years ago, before their relationship rotted to its core.

Hux pushes back until he can feel himself stretching around Ren’s cock. It’s too much too soon, but Hux _must_ persevere. He forces himself down, getting Ren’s cock deeper and deeper into him, biting the insides of his cheeks to stop himself from crying out. By the time he’s seated, he’s panting uncontrollably. He counts to ten in his head, then starts moving, even though he’s far from ready.

“Hux,” Ren says. His voice is heavy, drunk on sex. “Can I touch you?”

“No,” Hux replies automatically, his teeth gritted.

“ _Please_.”

“Fine.” He’s already uncomfortable on every possible level. Why not add to it?

Ren’s hands slide across the bedspread until they reach Hux’s legs, loosely grabbing ahold of Hux’s thighs. His hands are surprisingly warm. Ren slowly strokes, and though Hux despises the unnecessary contact, it distracts him from the pain of being split open.

Hux only needs to keep this up until Ren comes, so he rides Ren’s cock harder, in longer, sweeping movements. He rapidly tires. It’s age and injury, he supposes, so he pauses for a few seconds and then tries again. With luck, Ren will think Hux is deliberately teasing him.

“Let me,” Ren says breathlessly. “Let me.”

Before Hux can reply, Ren’s hands slide up his leg and settle on his hips. Ren takes a firm grip, then thrusts up into Hux. His pace is slow, but his movements are sure and steady. Hux closes his eyes and relaxes into Ren’s hold as soon as he realises that Ren is more than strong enough to take his weight. The pain starts to fade, leaving only the discomfort of having a solid object repeatedly shoved into his arse. Then, inexplicably, Hux crosses a threshold.

It starts to feel good.

Ren is doing something that makes him feel good. Why should Ren make him feel good, after everything? It isn’t fair. It isn’t--

Hux’s eyes snap open when he hears Ren groan. Could he be close? Will this be over soon? Ren hungrily eyes Hux’s body, his mouth ajar as if he’s consumed with lust over Hux. They make eye contact, and Ren suddenly thrusts hard, knocking Hux forward. Hux breaks his fall with his hands landing on Ren’s chest. Ren’s pectoral muscles are strong, tensing as he continues to thrust into Hux at this new pace. Out of curiosity, Hux squeezes them, not expecting the moan that Ren lets out in response, nor the pang of arousal that Ren’s moan triggers in him. These confused feelings are what Hux hates most about sex. Life would be easier if his body felt nothing at all while he forced it do perform these sorts of tasks.

Since the action already resulted in a favourable response, Hux squeezes Ren’s pectorals again, then glides one hand down over Ren’s abdominals. Hux avoids the big scar, but freely explores the rest. The tactile feel of it involuntarily feeds back to Hux, driving his arousal. Ren’s hands start exploring, too. Before Hux can do anything about it, Ren’s fist closes around Hux’s cock, and within a few strokes, Hux is actually _hard_.

Hux makes a sound, a moan that he stifles down to the tiniest of whimpers. He looks Ren in the eye again, and this time he sees something raw and vulnerable, like a long-gone innocence.

“Hux,” Ren gasps, tightening his grip on Hux's cock.

It's too much to resist, too much to try to fight off. Hux hasn't felt genuine pleasure in a long, long time, so he chases it. He lets his hips move to meet Ren's thrusts, lets himself succumb to Ren jerking him off.

Ren moans and grunts with every thrust, and it hits something so deep and animalistic that Hux can't stop himself from responding in kind. His climax approaches, carrying Hux like an out of control speeder until it sends him hurtling into orgasm. It punches all the energy out of him and he collapses onto Ren, who fucks a few final thrusts into Hux before breaking into gasping and panting as he comes himself.

Hux can’t remember the last time he slept without a chemical aid, but right now, his head feels so heavy that he can’t help closing his eyes for just one moment. When he jolts awake, the room is dark and he’s alone, covered by a blanket. A deep unease fills his insides, overwhelming the itchy, tender sensation emanating from his hole that tells Hux that sex with Ren wasn’t some deranged dream. It’s ridiculous, but for once, Hux doesn’t want to be alone.

As if answering his prayers, the door to the room slides open, and Ren steps through, clothed only in loose-fitting sleeping trousers. His hair is wet. In the light from the other room, Hux can see him holding two steaming mugs. Too late, Hux thinks that perhaps he should have faked being asleep, but seeing Ren is an odd and unexpected relief.

“I brought you tea,” Ren says.

Hux sits up and blinks. Ren carefully sits on the bed next to Hux and hands him a mug, keeping the other for himself. Hux can already tell that it’s tarine from the smell. He takes a sip, savouring the warmth as the hot drink travels down his throat.

“Thank you,” Hux says, after taking his second sip.

They drink their tea in silence, with only the light from the other room to illuminate them. Hux dreads finishing his cup, because it means he’ll have to leave. It’s childish, being needy for company like this, and it’s absolutely humiliating that he wants it from Ren.

“I should go,” Hux says.

“You can stay,” Ren says quickly.

Hux looks up from his mug. Ren looks uncertain again, like his whole world will fall apart if Hux refuses. He’s lonely, desperately so. All the nonsense about intertwined destinies could very well be wishful thinking.

“All right,” Hux says, and Ren’s expression washes over with relief.

He gets up to clean himself up in the refresher, then comes back into the room. Ren is already occupying one side of his bed, lying on his back under the covers. Hux gets in on the other side. Whether he’ll be able to sleep is another question entirely, but it’s a small price to pay to keep Ren satisfied.

In the coming weeks, life goes on. They complete the salvage mission and leave the scrap, once it’s been stripped of everything useful, and leave the system. Phasma is out of intensive medical care, but only on partial duty. Like Hux and Ren, she seems to be a shadow of her former self.

But they are all resilient people. With his new alliance with Ren, Hux is untouchable within the First Order. Together, they will rebuild their fleet and continue their mission to bring order to the galaxy, and they will triumph.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hux consumes too much prescription medication combined with strong alcohol, resulting in an overdose. He is revived by a medical droid.

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on [tumblr](https://agent-nemesis.tumblr.com/)!


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